Anandamath

Chapter VII

It was a full-moon night. That awesome battle-field was quiet. The clatter of horses’ hoofs, the rattle of muskets, the booming of guns and that spreading pall of smoke — all were gone. Nobody was crying “Hurrah” now, none shouting “Hari! Hari!” All the noise that was made there was coming from jackals, dogs and vultures. Above all there was the fitful moaning of the wounded. Some of them had their hands torn away, some with broken heads, some with their legs fractured and others had their ribs pierced. A few of them were crying out, “O father!” Some of them asked for water, some wanted escape from pain through death. Bengalis, Hindustanis, Englishmen, Mussulmans all lay promiscuously intertwined. The living and the dead, men and horses were lying closely packed, mixed up and pressed together. The battle-field was looking horrible in that intensely cold full-moon night in month of Magh. No one had the nerve to go there.

Though nobody dared, yet that night a woman was moving about in that unapproachable battle-field. With a burning torch she was looking for something among the dead bodies. She was approaching every corpse and looking at its face with her lighted torch, and then was moving on to another on a similar errand. At one spot a human body was covered under a dead horse, there the young woman putting down her torch on the ground rescued the dead one by removing the horse with both her hands. Then when she found that the person was not the one she was looking for, she moved away with her torch. Searching thus the young woman went through all the fields, but nowhere could she find; what she sought for. Then throwing away her torch she began rolling and writhing in the agony of grief on that bloody ground full of the dead and wept. She was Santi looking for Jivananda’s body.

Santi cried in utter despair. Just then a very sweet and voice entered her ear. As if some one was saying, “Mother, get up; don’t weep.” Santi looked up and saw a tall and superhuman figure with matted locks standing in front of her in that moon light.

Santi got up. The one who had come said to her, “Don’t weep mother! I shall find out Jivananda’s body for you, come with me.”

Then that saintly man took Santi to the very heart and centre of that battle-field. There innumerable corpses were lying in a huddled heap. Santi had not been able to move them all aside. Removing all those bodies that massive and powerfully built person picked out and recovered a certain corpse. Santi could recognise that one to be Jivananda’s body. It was covered all over with wounds and smeared with blood. Santi wept aloud like an ordinary woman.

Again the saintly man said, “Don’t weep, mother! Is Jivananda really dead? Be calm and examine his body. First feel his pulse.”

Santi felt the pulse. There was not the slightest movement there. The saint said, “Feel his chest with your hand.”

Santi put her hand where the heart was, there was not a sign of life. It was quite cold.

The Saint again said, “Put your hand near his nose — is there any breath moving?”

Santi examined the body as directed, but could not find sign of any breath.

He said, “Try again, feel inside his mouth with your finger, whether there is any warmth there.”

Santi felt with her finger and said, “I can’t feel anything.” Hope was acting like wine in her.

The great Saint touched the body of Jivananda with his left hand. He said, “Fear has robbed you of all hope, so you cannot feel anything.

There is a little warmth left still in the body. Feel again.”

Santi then felt the pulse again, there was some throbbing there. Surprised, Santi put her hand on his heart — it was beating slightly. She held her finger before the nostrils, there was indeed some breath going. She felt a little warmth too in his mouth. Amazed Santi asked, “Was there life in him indeed, or it has returned?”

The Saint said, “How can that be possible, mother? Will you be able to carry him to the tank? I am a doctor, I shall treat him.”

Santi picked up Jivananda’s body with perfect ease and began carrying him towards the tank. The doctor said, “You take him to the pond and wash his wounds. I shall go and fetch medicine.”

Santi took Jivananda to the side of the tank and washed his wounds. Soon after the doctor brought some crushed wild herbs and applied them to all his wounds. Then he passed his hands again and again on Jivananda’s body. After inhaling deeply Jivananda sat up. He looking at Santi asked, “Which side has become victorious?”

Santi said, “You have conquered. Bow dawn to this great Saint.”

Then both of them found that there was no one there. To whom was he to bow down!

The uproar of the victorious Santan army could be heard from the neighbourhood. But neither, Santi nor Jivananda stirred. They went on sitting on that moonlit steps of the tank. In a very short time Jivananda’s wounds were healed. He said, “Santi, the herbs of that doctor has wonderful healing properties. There is hardly any pain or trouble left in my body. Come, let us now depart wherever you wish. There comes the cry of jubilation of the Santans.”

Santi said. “We need not go there anymore. The Mother’s work is done. This country belongs to the Santans. We don’t crave for any share in this government, then where is the good of going there?”

Jivananda: What we have taken by force must be protected by the prowess of our arms.

Santi: To protect it there is Mohendra, Satyenanda himself is there. As an act of expiation for the sake of the Santan religion you gave up your body. The Santans have no claim on this rejuvenated body. So far as they are concerned we are dead. Now if they see us the Santans will say, “Jivananda had hid himself for fear of expiation, now finding the Santans victorious he has come forward to take his share of the newly won kingdom.”

Jivananda: How do you mean, Santi? Shall I shirk my duty for fear of blame? My duty is the service of the Mother. Whatever others may say, I must go on serving her.

Santi: You have no longer the right to serve the Mother, because in her service you have given up this body. Where is your expiation if you get a fresh opportunity to serve the Mother? The chief part of this expiation is to be deprived of the pleasure of serving her. Only to give up your trifling body is neither very difficult nor enough for the purpose.

Jivananda: Santi, you always get the right perspective. I won’t leave my expiation incomplete; my chief pleasure is in the Santan religion. I shall deprive myself of that. But where shall I go? Giving up service of the Mother I cannot go home and enjoy myself.

Santi: Am I telling you to do that? We are no more householders. We shall continue to remain Sannyasis like this — we shall go on practising celibacy. Come, let us travel all over the country on pilgrimage.

Jivananda: And then after that?

Santi: Then we shall build a cottage on the Himalayas and worship God there — seeking from him the boon of the Mother’s complete wellbeing.

Then both of them got up, clasped each other’s hand and disappeared in that moonlit night.

О Mother! Will you come again? Will you bear in your womb sons like Jivananda and daughters like Santi?